Thursday, January 29, 2015

I've
been making up stories since I could talk. I began as a child telling
stories about my imaginary friend, Snowy Green, and our adventures
are Rainbow School. I was four – so, way longer than I like to
think about.

Which
of your main characters is your favorite? Do you have more than one?

I
do have more than one favorite character. I'm always in love with my
leading man. SIGH

I
love Detective Walter Scott (call me Scott). He's a good man who's
been burned more than once by the wrong woman. By his own admission,
he's as bad at finding a woman as his sisters are at finding a good
man. He's intelligent, courageous and dead sexy.

Not
to be left out, Teague McMurtry from The Ninja Tattoo. Why? I'm not
sure. He's a great guy, takes charge, he's protective and in control.
He doesn't treat Vivica like an adornment, but as an equal.

My
other favorite is Wil VanLipsig from Lone Wolf and Shakazhan. He's a
cold, calculating bastard with a heart of gold underneath. WAY
underneath. He's honorable, loyal, reliable and dead sexy.

Where
do you find inspiration?

I
find inspiration in everything. Sometimes, it's a conversation I hear
in passing. Mostly, I just get an idea in my mind and run with it.
Inspiration for Undiscovered came from my friend, Mickey Hoffman, who
said, “I had the weirdest dream. I was showing a condo and shots
rang out.” It blossomed from there.

I
was fortunate, when in college, to attend lectures given by several
famous authors. I met and conversed with Robin Cook – Coma, Richard
Brautigan – Trout Fishing in America, Edward Albee – Who's Afraid
of Virginia Wolf. I also saw Harlan Ellison speak. I didn't get to
meet him, though.

What
is the weirdest thing a character ever did in a book?

My
characters have done some strange things. I think the weirdest that
one of them ever did, was the villain in New at Love. She was mad at
her ex-husband for dating a new woman (even though, she herself, had
cheated on him) So she broke into the new girlfriend's apartment and
shaved the cat before taping him (the cat) to the hood of his car.
(The cat was okay, though. Don't worry.)

Who
really wrote the book, you or your characters?

My
characters always write every book. I can't take credit for anything
but typing really fast. They do it all, dialogue, action, pacing,
story arc – all them, always.

How
many books have you started and how many have you finished?

This
is such an unfair question. I demand a recount! Oh, wait, that's what
you want, isn't it. Umm (counts)

Finished
Novels: 62 (Just finished another one last night)

Unfinished
novels: (mumble-mumble) 54

Giving
me a grand total of (drum roll) 116 novels/ novellas (I didn't
include short stories in here. These numbers are mind boggling enough
for me.)

I set myself a goal to finish a book a month in 2015. I've finished off 5 so far. One of them was start to finish, the rest were unfinished novels that I finally wound up!

What's
the hardest part with writing: the writing of the story or the
editing?

The
hardest thing for me is finishing – as evidenced by my numbers
above. I get a great idea, run with it awhile, then get another great
idea, and another. (later, rinse, repeat)

Monday, January 26, 2015

The
next morning, Cadence and Scott know they have to find a better
solution to her protection dilemma. He plans to contact his boss as
soon as possible, to get her around the clock surveillance.

"So,
what will they do with me?" Cadence asked suddenly.

"As
far as protection? No idea. Sometimes we take a witness to a hotel.
Other times, we patrol the neighborhood.
Different levels of protection depending on circumstances."

She
nodded, sniffling as she cleared her plate. "I want to thank you
again, Scott. I know you didn't have to do what you did."

"Can't
have my star witness scared and alone, can I?" He stood,
bringing his things to the sink.

Cadence
turned quickly, finding him directly behind her. She hadn't heard him
walk up. She was in tears again. Scott put his plate on the counter
and took her in his arms. She pressed her face to his shirt, crying
softly. He held her close, stroking her hair and murmuring
comfortingly in her ear. Not quite sure how it happened, he found
himself kissing her. Mouth closed, at first, nothing special about
it. Just an average, friendly kiss.

She
opened her lips, her tongue diving into his surprised mouth. That was
all the encouragement he needed. They stood there for several
minutes, consuming one another. She clung to him desperately as he
possessed her. His phone ringing broke the moment. Cursing, he looked
at it. Nessa.
He answered, trying not to sound as pissed off and horny as he was.

"Yeah?"

"What's
biting your ass?"

"Never
mind. What do you need, Vanessa?"

"You
not to take my head off. You busy?"

"A
little."

Cadence
started away from him. He took her hand, gently, worried she was
upset. She pointed to the clock, then the door and he understood she
needed to get ready for work.

"I
gotta go," he mumbled.

Wide
eyed, she nodded. He could tell she was afraid to be left alone.

"I
can stay fifteen minutes," he murmured, the phone away from his
mouth.

She
made rushing motions and ran up the stairs.

"Is
someone there with you? Where are you? You're not at your place."

"How
would you know that?"

"Cause
I'm knocking on your front door with donuts and coffee."

Shit!

"I'm
at a friend's place."

"Ooh,
new lady friend?"

"Not
like that. If you must know, my witness called me last night,
terrified because our fourth floor guy saw her even more clearly than
she saw him. She's afraid he'll find her."

"Shit!"

"Yeah,
my thoughts exactly."

"Okay.
Give me the location. I'm on my way over."

"Ocean
Sun, apartment Five ten."

"Ocean.
. . . Oh, my God! Her place is the floor in between? Jesus, Scott.
Why didn't you tell me that? I'll be there in ten. Stay tight. Call
the station and tell them where you are so the lieutenant won't bust
your ass when you get there."

"Good
idea. See you in a few."

He
concluded his call to the station as Cadence walked down the stairs.
She looked incredible he couldn't help staring at her. She wore a
short, gauzy black dress covered in rusty orange and lavender
butterflies. Her necklace and earrings were teardrop shaped purple
stones in antique gold filigree settings. Her sandals made her about
three inches taller and clasped around her narrow ankles. Her golden
hair was done in a loose chignon, her makeup minimal.

"Oh,
teacher, spank me! I've been a bad boy!" he murmured as she got
to the bottom step.

Cadence
blushed, feeling his scrutiny. No man had ever looked at her that
way—like a dying man seeing his first glimpse of heaven.

"If
I took your class, I'd fail the whole year," he said as he took
her hand, bringing it to his lips.

"Why's
that?"

"Cause
if I failed, I could take you again." It took him a second to
realize how that sounded, but decided he didn't care.

Cadence
laughed nervously, blushing more as he kissed her hand. His lips
moved to hers, kissing her softly, lingeringly. A small sigh escaped
her parted lips.

"You
look—amazing. . . ."

"Thank
you." She gently extracted her hand with an apology. "Sorry.
Got to get my things." She pointed to her desk in the corner of
the living room.

Thursday, January 22, 2015

Miriam Davidson is a
new indie author whom I had the good fortune to meet on Facebook
during a book event. We all had such a good time chatting at the
event, we decided to start a group, inviting those people who
attended. Miriam was one of those folks. She is a delight to talk to
and I am pleased to be able to count her among my Facebook friends. Her book, Blushes,
Blunders and Bagpipes is available HERE

Blushed, Blunders and Bagpipes:

Sarah Phillips is
accident prone pure and simple. If it's not her body letting her
down; it's her mouth! Join her and the love of her life, Jason
Alderson, as they travel to Scotland and Majorca with hilarious
results. Home life is no less hectic, but through it all, they are
hopelessly in love.

Hi, Miriam. Where
are you from?

I’m from Newcastle
Upon Tyne, in the North East of England.

What genre do you
write?

I write fantasy,
romantic comedy and I am busy writing a paranormal book at the
moment.

When did you know
you wanted to be a writer?

I have always loved
writing. I used to write my children’s school essays for them. It
wasn’t until I became a single woman again, that I decided to try
it professionally.

Do you remember what
inspired this book?

I had a bad few
years with verbal and physical abuse and at first, I began writing a
book about my life. One night I went to bed and dreamt of a secret
fantasy world alongside our own. I went straight to the library the
next day and began research on mythology and my first book was born.
I am looking to rewrite it into a children’s book and then turn it
into a screenplay for a partially animated movie.

My latest book is a
romantic comedy which came to me after I had been talking with my
girls and sister about love and marriage. A lot of the things that
happen in Majorca, actually happened to me or one of my family while
we were in Majorca many years ago.

Tuesday, January 20, 2015

Distraught
over the loss of her cellphone, (the case held sentimental value)
Moira Crane goes to the police station to report the theft. Detective
Rhys Fletcher ushers her into his office and it becomes more of a
flirtatious conversation than a police interview.

"Sorry
for the mess. They're repairing my usual office. Had a waterpipe
burst. So I'm stuck in the file room. They're in the process of
converting to paperless." He held up a file, pulling a silly,
sad-clown face.

Moira
smiled. "I thought maybe you were just incredibly busy and
awfully disorganized."

"Me?"
Fletcher tossed his hat on a rack near the desk. "Neat as a pin.
Ask Sue." He nodded to the woman outside.

Moira
gulped, her eyes watering again. She pulled out a crumpled tissue
from the stack Sue had given her, smiling when Fletcher's
handkerchief appeared in front of her. Laughing, she took the
handkerchief.

"I'm
sorry, I got mascara on it." She handed it back to him.

Fletcher
tossed it aside. "That's what I pay the maid for." He
smiled down at her. "I can't guarantee we'll get the phone back.
If it was stolen, it's probably been sold off by now. But you did the
right thing by contacting the phone company."

"It's
the pictures," she wailed. "I don't have copies of them. I
know I should have saved them—"

"But
you don't think about that," he said quietly. "Not with
something as precious and spontaneous."

He
sounded so subdued, Moira stared at him. She never tried to read
people she'd just met. Sometimes, their emotions were so obvious, she
couldn't help it. The pain radiating off him was intense. He'd lost
someone he loved dearly—and the pain was recent. Moira's fingers
brushed his hand before she could stop it. She got a flash of a
grave—no, two. One adult sized and one very small one.

"I'm
so sorry," she whispered. "It must be quite awful to lose
your family."

Rhys
Fletcher recoiled from her touch, jumping off the edge of the desk.
He knocked his lamp to the floor in his attempt to get away. The bulb
shattered on the tile floor.

"Who
are you? Did he send you?"

"What
are you doing in there, Rhys Fletcher?" Sue called from her
desk. "If you break another lamp. . . ."

"Sorry.
My fault," Moira called.

Moira
stooped to pick up the lamp. Her long, sable hair cascaded over her
shoulder. Their eyes met when she stood up. Fletcher's were dark,
penetrating, glaring at her.

"I'm
sorry," she whispered. "I didn't mean to pry. It's just—I
sense things. I know it sounds all freakish, but when I touched you,
I saw graves. Your wife and child?"

"Who
are you, Miss Crane?"

"I'm
an English teacher at the high school."

Fletcher
signed, running his hands over his close cropped hair. "I'm
sorry, Miss Crane." He adjusted his shirt sleeves, tugging at
the cuffs. "It wasn't my wife and child. It was my sister and
her daughter." He set the lamp well out of his way and sat on
the desk once more. "I apologize. I'm naturally
suspicious."

"You
asked if he sent me. No one sent me, Detective Fletcher. I'm
here about my phone."

"Of
course. If I haven't completely blown any chance in hell I had of
getting to know you better, would you like to go to dinner?"

Moira's
eyes widened. "What?"

"Dinner."
He eyed her calmly, smiling.

"Like
a date?"

"Yes."
He folded his hands in his lap, waiting.

Moira
crossed her legs, twitching hair behind her ear. She couldn't read
any deception in his face. He really wanted to ask her out. If the
feelings she got from him early on were any indication, he was
genuinely interested in her. In fact, she suspected this conversation
was brought on less by him being a police officer and more about
being a man.

"Are
you married?" Her eyes narrowed.

"Sue,
am I married?"

The
older woman didn't even look up from what she was typing. "Nope,
more's the pity."

"Am
I dating anyone?" He winked at Moira, knowing that would be her
next question.

"There's
not a woman alive who would put up with you long enough." She
smiled up at him. "Is that young whelp asking you out?" she
directed at Moira.

"Yes,
ma'am."

"Well,
he's not completely untrainable, but you'll have your hands full.
He's better than most and not as bad as some others. Go for it."
She waved at them. "With my blessing. Now, leave me be. I have
work."

"You
have the Sue Seal of Approval," Fletcher said. "What more
can you ask for?"

Moira
laughed. "I guess I can't ask for anything more. Okay, I'd love
to have dinner. I need to go home and fix my face."

"I'll
pick you up at seven."

"Don't
you need my address for that?"

He
picked up her paperwork, grinning as he waved it at her. "I've
got it right here. All your most intimate details."

"If
you weren't a cop, that would be a really pervy thing to admit,"
Moira said, her lips twitching as she tried to hide a smile.

"Moi?"
He pointed to himself with both index fingers. "Not a perverted
bone in my body," he said as he walked her out.

Monday, January 19, 2015

Detectives
Walter Scott and Vanessa Weinstein have been called to the scene of a
strange crime. Someone shot the younger brother of movie mogul, Kent
Griswald. Connor Griswald wasn't killed, but when a man is shot on a
public beach, while surrounded by celebrities, there's pressure on
the police to produce suspect quickly.

Fortunately,
Scott and Vanessa have a witness, Cadence Stewart. She shows condos
part time and works as a music teacher at a local college. After
finishing up the stacks of paperwork, Scott and Vanessa decide to go
out to dinner.

They
drove back to the station together. They hit the door and headed to
their desks to start the paperwork ball rolling. Long after their
shift was supposed to be over, they finally finished. Meeting up at
the Lieutenant's office, they decided to go to dinner. They met at
the best restaurant on the beach. There was a live band and the place
was packed, but Scott could always get in.

"My
sister's the manager," he explained as the hostess led them to a
table.

Thursday, January 15, 2015

Tears of Crimson, the New Orleans Vampire Bar contains adult situations, sexual content, and is not appropriate for minors.

I was only fifteen the first time he found me. I say he found me because I hadn't been looking for him... yet there he was when I closed my eyes. When my mother was declared insane, the only person I had left in the world was Granny Louise. Even though she was good to me, I was a target for bullies, ones that were convinced that the apple never fell far from the tree. I was tired of my life, tired of a world that fostered such heartache and pain.

Rafe changed things.

He salvaged what was left of my will to live. Those six years became my lifeline. He opened my eyes to passion, shared a world with me that was so vivid that I could still hear his words in my ears, and the ghost of his touch on my skin when I woke up.

Now that my world has seemingly fallen apart, the only place I can think of going is where my dreams took place- New Orleans. Rafe and I have walked those streets in my fantasies. Somehow, I feel like that's where I can find my salvation, my purpose.

What frightens me is, now that I've stepped in Tears of Crimson, a part of me is starting to believe that some dreams are meant to be lived.

Author Bio: Michelle Hughes is an international bestselling romance author with over 15 books published. She is an Alabama native, married with five children, and formerly a singer/songwriter. Michelle is also the owner of Tears of Crimson LLC which provides exposure to independent authors and entertainers on a global level.

When she's not writing or promoting, Michelle and her family enjoy spending time on their 40 acre homestead in Verbena. Fishing, riding four wheelers and exploring all the natural resources of her state are very important to Michelle. She is also a den leader to her local cub scouts troop. Giving back to the community is something Michelle truly believes in, and is always willing to help with organizations that support those less fortunate.

Tuesday, January 13, 2015

Roger
Findley made a mistake. He got drunk and had hot sex with a woman he
didn't know. The bad thing is, he can't remember it. He's in an on
again, off again relationship with his friend (and boss) Siobhan. She
and Amber are aware of one another and have accepted it—Roger
didn't lie to either woman. Now, they're all out to lunch at a very
exclusive restaurant. The women take advantage of the fact that
Roger's gone to the restroom.

While
he was gone, the women talked about him in very explicit terms,
comparing his performance.

"Oh,
he did that with you too? I thought he'd spanked me raw,"
Siobhan exclaimed.

"It
was so naughty! And so hot. I don't usually do that—you know, go
off with some guy I barely know. But I'd seen him at the club a few
times. We'd chatted, danced some, but never anything more. He was so
handsome and charming, he swept me off my feet."

"Was
he there a lot? Roger hates clubs. Crowds make him claustrophobic."

"He
didn't seem to mind. He was out there on the dance floor with me and
a few other girls. He was in the middle of six of us having a
wonderful time. I guess that and the tequila got him pretty hot, next
thing I know. . . ." Amber blushed, ducking her head away. "God,
I'm embarrassed to tell you."

"What?"
Siobhan leaned forward. "Don't tell me, you did it in a stall?"

"Never
in my life before! Humping in the bathroom like a couple of drunk
teenagers."

Siobhan
laughed loudly, green eyes sparkling. "That's so unlike him. I
mean, he'll do it just about anywhere, but he's always been picky
about hygiene."

"I
guess any man will lower his standards if he's horny enough."

"I
feel cheated. He never did me in the bathroom." She pouted,
giggling.

The
women were laughing and talking when Roger came out of the restroom.
He was glad they were getting along well, but—they were getting
along—well. A little worried, he stood by the restroom,
watching. He might have continued to do so, but he heard his name.
Not one of the women he was with, a decidedly masculine voice.

"Roger!
Hey, are you deaf?"

His
old school buddy, Lionel Pettigrew, whose parents owned Sarducci's,
was sitting at a quiet corner table with a beautiful brunette. Roger
walked over and found himself enveloped in a hug. Lionel pummeled him
on the back.

"Damn,
it's good to see you! It's been what? Four, five years?"

"At
least. You left me far behind, Leo." He used the nickname that
their circle of friends had adopted as kids. "I'm smart, but
shit. You make smart people look dumb."

"I
want you to meet someone. Arista, this is my old pal, Roger Findley.
He kept up with me better than some of the others."

"Yeah,
I did duel enrollment while he worked on his Masters," Roger
said, smiling at the attractive woman. "Pleased to meet you."
He noticed she looked to be about four months pregnant. "So,
Leo, you and Arista?"

"Getting
married next month. Mama was kind of pissed we waited, but we've been
busy."

Arista
grinned. "We took a sabbatical to go on a dive. Ran into a few
problems along the way."

Thursday, January 08, 2015

In the Maker, I introduce several new characters. Not
all of them are human, in fact, most of them
are some sort of bipedal alien race. There are others, however, who
are just as important, but aren't remotely human. In fact, some of
the best characters in the books are the sentient ships. We've
already met Styx, Hammer, Anvil and Quick
Silver. They are a family unit who have been remarkably helpful
to the folk of Shakazhan.

Now,
however, a galaxy wide call has gone out and the Timokuan people must
respond. The ships are the ones who must carry them to Shakazhan.
This scene takes place as the Timokuan prepare to depart. It is
customary for the mated pairs to travel, leaving their children for
who knows how long, because there isn't any room on the ship for
them. Reluctantly, Tianna and Lordvik must leave their family behind.

The
final good byes were said and the four of them took the nearest
teleporter to the spaceport. Luggage stowed, they tried to make
themselves comfortable in their tiny cabins.

Jessia's
thoughts turned to the legends she had heard in her childhood of the
living ships her people had used. They were said to be operated by
tiny, hairy men and carried the Timokuan wherever they need to go.
Large and spacious, they could house everyone in comfort, their needs
met with a thought.

She
looked around at the cold metallic and silicon cabin. Not even the
bed she and Acey were to share was homey or comfortable. Despite her
efforts, she knew nothing would ever make it feel like home. But it
would be where they lived for who knew how long?

Sighing
deeply, she sank slowly to the hard, chilly metal chair, her thoughts
churning slowly as she felt the engines ignite.

Suddenly,
planetary alarms sounded. An attack? Had the Evil Ones come for them?
Her training took over and she responded automatically to the klaxon.
Grabbing up her weapons, she ran to her duty station. Acey met her
there, anxiety in his face, which he tried hard to conceal.

"What
is it?" What's happening?" Jessia asked.

"Not
sure, but I heard someone say there were ships on the sensors."

"Ships?
What ships could there be? Is it the Evil One?"

Acey
turned confidently to his new wife, taking her hand gently. "No,
Jessia, if it were the Kahlea, we would already be dead."

They
both shuddered involuntarily. All they could do was wait, which they
did, in silence. A few minutes later, the alarms silenced and a ship
wide announcement began.

"Good
people, although this will seem a peculiar command, you're to return
to the planet, gather your families and come back to the spaceport
within the next quarter sun. That is all."

Acey
and Jessia turned to one another, stunned. Gather their families and
return? Nothing more. Obediently, they met Acey's parents and went
back to their house.

In
silence, Jessia and Tianna gathered the children's things together,
told the servants to watch over the house in their absence and
returned to the spaceport. They were surrounded with other dazed and
confused people, children in tow.

The
skies seemed to part and above their heads was a gigantic,
multicolored ship of unknown make and origin. Never had they seen
such a vessel. Shocked, no one spoke for a few moments and then the
flood of comments began.

"What
is this ship? Who mans it? Where did it come from?" The same
questions, as yet unanswered, bubbled through the crowd. As if in
response to their queries, a large view screen flickered into life
high on the main tower of the spaceport, showing the Parva's pale,
startled face. Beside him, resplendent in full ceremonial gear, a
short, furry person stood proudly, dwarfed only in size by his human
counterpart.

"Good
people," the Parva began. "My friends and colleges, we're
honored today to welcome the Kindred from the planet Iyundo."

Silence
echoed from one end of the spaceport to the other. A murmur began,
then a thunderous sound of shock. Amazement, horror and consternation
rumbled through the assembly. Kindred? Iyundo? These were names from
myth, legend, histories older than recorded time and yet here they
were in the flesh.

As
if having anticipated the noise, the Parva held his hands for quiet.
Slowly, the rumble died to a mutter and then silence.

"As
unbelievable as it may be, it is true. We welcome the Kindred and ask
all of you to make your way to the designated areas of the spaceport
for transport to the ship. You'll see the symbol of your units
emblazoned above each section. Stand quietly and be patient. This
will be as swift as possible. I assure you, you have nothing to
fear."

Tianna's
face was ashen and she looked ready to faint. Lordvik held her firmly
by the elbow, leading her to their designated departure area. The
sign of their unit was hanging in the sky above it, blazing orange.
Reaching to touch it, Lordvik found his hand passed through it, not
even seeming to break the image. It was neither hot nor cold, as if
his fingers mere passed through air.

"Do
you think it's safe?" Tianna's face showed fear, which she tried
to hide from her children.

"I'm
sure it's perfectly safe. They could have killed us a million times
over by now. They mean us no harm."

"Perhaps
they want to lure us on board to enslave us!"

"My
love, be reasonable. There are simpler ways of enslaving people. They
could have drugged us all by infiltrating our atmosphere with
chemicals to make us sleep and then swept us up in one massive
motion. No, we're fine, don't fear."

A
gentle tingle started on their scalps, working down to their toes.
The children giggled happily, holding onto their parents hands.
Jessia clutched Acey's hand in both of hers, not noticing that his
fingers were going blue. Acey was too fascinated by the process to
notice until they were aboard.

They
found themselves in a large cargo hold with more of their people
around them, equally benumbed. A strange voice made an announcement
which they received in silence.

"Welcome
good friends. We apologize for taking you so much by surprise, but it
was unavoidable. Our attempts at communication were unproductive. We
tried to warn you of our arrival. An anomaly of your planet made
communication impossible until we were in your atmosphere."
There was a short pause and the voice continued.

"Please
accept our hospitality. The Sentience has instructed us to transport
you to Shakazhan. You'll be taken to the quarters assigned to you.
Your belongings have already been brought here and are waiting for
you in your state rooms. As your children are such a vital part of
you, we have invited them to join you, they'll be well cared for. I
am delighted to introduce myself, I am Bellerophon, your ship
and home to you for the next few weeks. Welcome."

Tuesday, January 06, 2015

The
following excerpt is from a story I began September 11, 2014, as I
boarded my plane in Daytona. I didn't really need another story, but
it refused to be still. It's not got a proper title yet, so I named
it after the main character, Brick McMillan.

Brick's
heading to Daytona from Kansas City for a funeral—the fourth in
five years. First his father, then his Aunt Mabel and wife, Danai.
Now, his younger brother, Stony, has died under somewhat mysterious
circumstances. He's planning to move back to Florida to be near his
nieces and nephews, to help raise them as his brother wanted. He also
meets one of Stony's co-workers—Colleen. She isn't quite what she
seems. Right now, he's out with Colleen and a real estate agent named
Stacy.

They
pulled up to a comfortable house in one of the closed communities
that was back to back with the golf course, separated by a low wall.
The house was seashell pink with pale green trim. Brick wasn't sure
he liked it. It was the kind of thing that Danai would have loved,
but his tastes weren't quite that feminine. Dubious, he allowed the
women to coerce him inside. The interior was equally feminine. He
wandered around politely, but Stacy could tell he wasn't all that
interested.

“It's
nice and all, but I feel like I should be hosting a party where we
sip chai tea and talk about our periods.” Brick shuddered.

The
women laughed, understanding exactly what he meant. Fortunately,
neither of them was offended by his remark.

The
next house, in another community, wasn't as feminine, but wasn't to
his taste either. After looking it over, he stood in the living room,
legs spread, arms crossed over his chest.

“Lemme
tell ya what I don't want,” he said. “This here?” He
made circular motions with his right hand. “Not this. That other
place—hell no. Either something ridiculously modern or
something old fashioned. This golf course chic or kitschy—shit. . .
.” He shook his head, gesturing around himself at the home's
interior. “No. Just—no.” He strutted out.

Colleen
and Stacy watched his departing form, eyes lingering on his well
toned ass. Stacy raised an eyebrow.

“Yum!”

“No
kidding! He kissed me earlier.”

“No,
he didn't! Oh, my God, was it wonderful?”

“It
was worth doing again, that's for sure.”

“Makes
me wish I were single.”

They
left the house, locking it behind them. Brick was on the phone,
leaning against the car, legs crossed at the ankles. His long, lean
body was relaxed and casual. A soft smile tugged at his lips.

“Charlie,
I can't do that right now. Go to the house and get it.” He paused,
listening. “Cause I'm still in Florida. I told you that before I
left. I gotta go. Bye now. Love you!” He put the phone in his
pocket. “My youngest. Most helpless child on the face of the
earth.” He laughed.

“How
old is Charlie?”

“She'll
be nineteen next month. Looks just like her mother.” His smile
faded slightly. “The kids didn't want to come to the funeral.” He
swallowed hard. “Too much death. I don't blame them. If I could
have avoided this, I wouldn't be here either.” He cleared his
throat. “Let's get this circus on the road,” he commanded.